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by RogueTwelve



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Exes, F/M, Road Trips, Suspense, Teacher Bellamy Blake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueTwelve/pseuds/RogueTwelve
Summary: He hadn't seen Clarke Griffin in6 years, so when she called him out of the blue he had no real explanation for why he even answered, let alone why he was now driving to the middle of nowhere to go pick her up.But something about the way that she'd cut herself off from everyone had never sat right with him. Faced with the prospect of finally getting some answers - and maybe even getting some closure - he couldn't say no.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 145





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**Author's Note:**

> See end note for Trigger Warnings

Stepping into his empty house sounded like pretty much the last place he wanted to be. He’d stayed late at work, helping out with a volleyball game that they really hadn’t needed him for and had even offered to be the one to lock up at the end of the night. Anything to avoid the oppressive hollowness for just a little while longer.

Eventually his excuses had run dry, leading him to where he was currently standing, his stomach feeling heavy as he took in the darkened room ahead of him. He didn’t always feel this miserable - but it had been two months to the day since Echo had moved out and the solitude was just hitting him harder than usual.

A distraction might have helped. Hell, he’d been burying his mind in diversions all day. But now, left alone in a quiet house, he wasn’t sure that anything could be quite engrossing enough to get him through the rest of the night.

He set down his messenger bag with a dull thud. He had marking he could do. The smart choice would be to get it over with so that it wasn’t looming over him for the rest of the weekend.

He wasn’t in the mood for smart choices.

Instead he stalked over to the fridge, took out some leftover Thai from earlier in the week, and snagged a bottle of beer off of the shelf. The adult thing to do would be to put it on a plate and eat at the actual dining table. Instead, after snapping the lid off of his beer, he picked up the cardboard takeout container and slumped onto the couch.

He wasn’t sure where he’d taken a wrong turn in life to the point that he was drinking alone on a Friday night.

That was a lie. He was pretty sure he knew. It likely had something to do with a golden halo of blonde hair and a dazzling set of bottomless azure eyes.

Slouching back into the cushions, he let out a low groan. It hadn’t been too long ago that he’d thought he’d finally had his shit together - he’d convinced himself that he’d actually moved on.

But then Echo had left - citing that exact same blonde-haired blue-eyed spector as the reason that she was breaking off their engagement. And he couldn’t blame her. She’d been absolutely right.

Echo had deserved more. She’d deserved someone willing to give their all, not someone who was still clinging to some fantasy of the past.

He’d thought he’d had it under control. He’d told himself that no one noticed the way he’d zone out from time to time when something reminded him of _her_ ; the way that he still couldn’t help but ask his friends if they’d heard anything from her; the way he was still crushed every time the answer (as always) was no.

Echo had described it as living with a ghost between them.

But that was the problem. Clarke _wasn’t_ a ghost. She was alive somewhere and that gave some far off corner of his mind permission to hold onto its foolish sense of hope.

Clarke Griffin had ruined his damn life.

That was unfair and melodramatic, and he knew it. But so help him, he was throwing himself a pity party and logic had no business crashing it.

Taking a long pull from his beer, he eyed the remote. It was getting close to Halloween. Maybe he could find some mindless horror flick to distract himself from his misery. 

His fingertips were just brushing the hard plastic when his phone went off, the vibration making a horrible noise against the wood of the coffee table. 

Half a second later the device lit up - 6 letters that he hadn’t seen in years spelled daintily across the top of the screen. 

He just stared. He had to be dreaming - the fact he’d been thinking about her transferring into his subconscious, refusing to give him a break. 

His phone slid itself closer to the end of the table before tumbling over the edge. He caught it just before it shattered on the floor, it’s solid weight telling him that it was in fact real. He wasn’t dreaming. She was calling him. 

He raised his hand to his ear and answered the call with a click, his chest feeling tight. 

“Clarke?” He was barely able to keep his voice from cracking.

The only thing that answered him was the low level of crackling static indicating that the call was actually connected.

Of course the only contact he’d receive from her in half a decade would be a butt dial.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbow on his thigh and scrubbed his hand roughly over his face. A couple of beers wasn’t going to be enough tonight. Maybe he could call Miller and convince him to go to the bar.

He’d just started to pull the phone away from his ear when the silence was broken.

“Hey.”

The voice was quiet, but it was unmistakably hers. His spine tingled as a rush of memories tumbled through his mind unbidden. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. He’d been stunned into speechlessness.

Time passed, but he had no way of telling how much. It could have been minutes, it could have been an eternity. He remained frozen, the sharp edge of his phone biting into the pads of his fingers.

A shuddering inhale made its way across the line. “I shouldn’t have called,” she let out in a rush. The line crackled again as she seemed to fumble with her device.

“No.” The word left his lips before he’d really even thought about it. He couldn’t explain it, but he needed to keep her on the line. He couldn’t bear losing her again - not yet. “No - please don’t… I-” he stuttered before taking a deep breath. “What is it?” There had to be a reason that she’d reached out. This wasn’t just a social call - it couldn’t be an attempt to reconnect. Not this late on a Friday night.

“I, uh…” she trailed off awkwardly, sounding like she was cringing. “I need a ride.”

Silence once again. He found himself staring at a point on the wall, his eyes struggling to focus. She’d called because she needed a ride… She’d contacted him after _5 years_ because she needed a ride. Absolutely nothing made sense. He found himself wanting to pinch his arm. This was definitely the kind of insane shit that his brain would torture him with while he was sleeping.

“You know what? This was stupid. I shouldn’t have contacted you. Please just forget this ever happened.” Once again her hushed words were said in a rush, the slightest hints of hysteria making them sound higher. Or maybe he was just imagining that. How could he even say when he could barely remember what her voice _should_ sound like?

“No, Clarke,” he interjected quickly before she could hang up. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “Where are you?”

She didn’t say anything at first, almost as if she were trying to suss out whether the offer was genuine. He still wasn’t quite sure himself. Finally, she exhaled. “Morristown.”

His stomach hardened. That was over 3 hours away. Why the hell was she calling _him_? “Is this some kind of joke?” He asked incredulously.

“No.” Her response was firm. “No, I swear it’s…” her voice seemed to die out once again. “Forget it. I’m sorry Bellamy.”

“Clarke-“ he swallowed. He had no idea what he was doing. “It’s going to take me forever to get there, but if you actually need me… I’ll be there.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “You know I will,” he added in a barely audible whisper.

And of course she did. That had to be the reason she'd called in the first place. He’d always drop everything for her. Even in this fucked up world they now lived in, that hadn’t changed.

He could practically see her nibbling at her bottom lip. “I’ll send you the address.”

And then she hung up. No thank you, no goodbye, just more damn silence.

He was left wondering whether he’d just imagined the whole thing until a few minutes later, when his phone buzzed once again with a pinned location. Just like she’d said, it was on the outskirts of Morristown, New Jersey. Scrubbing a hand over his face one last time, he pushed himself to his feet, discarding his half full beer in the sink and dumping his untouched food in the trash.

Instead he flipped on his coffeemaker, roasting a fresh pot. If he was going to be driving for upwards of 6 hours that night he was going to need to find a way to stay awake.

He still couldn’t believe what he was doing. Octavia would have called him an idiot - or probably something worse… at the very least questioned his sanity - if she’d known. Somehow that knowledge didn’t stop him. It never even gave him pause. Instead, within the next 15 minutes he was bundled into his SUV, a travel mug steaming in the cup holder, as he eyed his fuel gage, deciding he should probably gas up before he went too far, rather than running out in the middle of nowhere.

The drive was pretty monotone. It was basically just a straight shot down I-95 until he hit New York - which gave him way too much time to think about everything that had led up to that point.

Things had shifted between him and Clarke when she was still in her senior year of high school - which wasn’t as terrible and inappropriate as it would sound to an outside ear. It was honestly innocent at first. Clarke had been alone in the world after her father died and her mother buried her grief in work and pills. She spent most of her time at the Blake house just to try to fill the emptiness. If that meant she spent nearly every Saturday night curled into his side on the couch while they watched a movie, he wasn’t going to complain. It wasn’t like he was going to kick a 17 year old to the curb to fend for herself - especially not with the way that he and Octavia had grown up.

It hadn’t gotten serious until they’d started their undergrads. Somehow they’d both ended up at the University of Richmond. Bellamy had always harbored the suspicion that she’d followed him - between her grades and her inheritance she could have gone anywhere she chose. 

With Octavia off doing her own thing, he’d finally been free to pursue his own life - and Clarke had fit into that like a perfectly contoured puzzle piece. They’d spent many a lazy afternoon holed up in his dorm, fantasizing about their eventual triumphant return to small town Arcadia, him teaching history at a nearby high school while Clarke opened her own clinic.

He should have known that it had never been meant to last - that real life has the tendency to be so much messier than the way that it's planned. But when you’re eyebrows deep in bliss, reality never seems that important.

Clarke broke up with him midway through her first semester of med school. They’d been trying to do long distance, and she’d claimed that it just wasn’t working for her. She couldn’t deal with feeling guilty that she was supposedly holding him back. He’d tried his damnedest to reason with her, but ultimately he’d given in, letting her believe that he’d try to move on. It didn’t have to be a big deal. They still talked to each other almost daily and he’d be waiting for her when she eventually moved home.

Then, just before the school year ended, she’d abruptly cut off all forms of communication with him without warning. After a week of radio silence, he’d been damn near ready to file a missing persons report. A frantic call with Raven, their mutual friend from college, had eventually been able to calm him down. Apparently, Clarke was still talking to other people, just not him.

 _She’d needed a clean break_ , she’d told the engineer. _It was just too hard_.

That had hurt. A little voice in his head screamed at him that something was wrong, but he’d quickly quashed it. He could respect Clarke’s wishes. She deserved at least that.

But then over the next year, she’d withdrawn from everyone else as well.

Nobody else seemed to be as concerned as he was. _‘People move on, you should too.’_ The more he’d heard it, the more he’d allowed the words to start making sense. Clarke had always been too big, held too much potential, for the small town they’d grown up in. He never should have held her to whispered promises made while they’d still been too naïve to see the bigger picture. And as month after month swept by, with no contact and no reports that anything foul had befallen her, he’d started to let go, piece by piece.

But Clarke was a part of him, welded into his bones so securely that her presence in his life would always be there. And because of that, no matter how long it had been, if there was even a chance that he could have her back in his life in some capacity, he’d go to her like a siren’s call.

The canned voice coming from the GPS on his phone announced his arrival. Slowly, he eased his vehicle over to the side of the road, his trepidation climbing ever higher.

He had no idea what he’d been expecting, but this certainly wasn’t it. Outside his windshield, a park stretched for as far as he could see. Most of it was an open field, but a small playground stood in empty solitude, bordered by a thick copse of forest on one side.

He should have looked up the address before he’d left. There were no houses around… no _people_ around either as far as he could tell. Not that the flickering glow from the dilapidated streetlights further up the road was helping much in that regard. It didn’t make any sense.

Maybe the coordinates had gotten messed up somehow when she’d sent her location.

Or maybe this was some kind of fucked up prank that he’d walked right into.

That didn’t sound like something Clarke would do. But then again, what did? He hadn’t seen her in _6 years_. He hadn’t even heard from her for more than 5. What did he really know about her anymore?

With a heavy sigh, he picked up his phone and tried calling her. It went straight to voicemail. Either she’d turned her phone off or it had died.

Every instinct screamed at him that he should just put his car back in gear and go home. Nothing about this felt right.

But like the absolute sucker he’d always been, he couldn’t. He may not have heard from her in an incredibly long time, but he still thought he knew her voice. She’d sounded scared - or as scared as Clarke ever sounded, knowing she kept her emotions close to her vest. He’d never seen her actually let her vulnerability show around anyone other than him. Obviously that trust was another thing that had evaporated with time. He idly wondered if she had _anyone_ anymore.

Which wasn’t his problem. It couldn’t be. At this point it was looking like the chances he’d even see her again were slim. But he’d come this far - he might as well at least give things a look around.

He dug a flashlight out of his glove compartment and left his headlights on, aiming them out over the field. 

Stepping out of the SUV, he took a shuddering breath, trying to steady his nerves. Everything that was unfolding was shaping into the classic horror movie stereotype - Bellamy playing the role of the idiotic protagonist that the audience loves to yell at for their bone-headed decisions. And yet he kept walking, his flashlight beam swinging over the playground equipment, causing the shadows to dance.

The place looked deserted. The area was quiet aside from the chirping of a few cicadas and the sound of cars on a distant motorway. He ducked his head lower into his jacket collar. The fall breeze had turned biting at some point. Crouching down, he shone his light under a play structure, wondering if she might have tried to use it as a windbreak. He was well aware that he was grasping at straws, the ideas his mind was coming up with making less and less sense, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

The loud crack of a branch snapping under someone’s foot caused him to freeze, his face flushing as his pounding heart echoed in his ears.

“Clarke?” He called softly. 

No response. 

His muscles tensed as if readying him to be jumped at any minute. Slowly, he turned to face the dark woods at his back, his flashlight beam scanning slowly over the tightly packed skeletal trees. It could have been an animal. He’d be seeing reflective eyes glaring back at him at any moment. 

The light caught on a short figure in a dark shirt, arms raised to protectively shield the person’s face. 

He stumbled back, nearly dropping the flashlight in the process. 

“ _Christ_ ,” his free hand flew to his chest as he tried valiantly to catch his breath. Hurriedly he swung the beam down, not wanting to blind the now recognizable figure in front of him. 

Clarke slowly lowered her arms but didn’t come any closer. 

He studied her for a long moment. In the dark there wasn’t much that he could make out, other than the fact that she obviously wasn’t dressed for the weather, wearing only a thin long sleeved tee. Had she been out there the whole time?

They both seemed to be waiting for the other to make the first move. Growing restless, he was the first to give in. “What’s going on Clarke?” He asked tersely. 

He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw her jaw tense as she turned her head away, chin tilting down so her hair curtained her face. 

He waited. She never answered. 

Shifting his feet frustratedly, he shook his head. “Fine.” He grunted out through gritted teeth, the years of resentment hitting him full force. “You’re still shutting me out? Whatever. Let’s just get out of here.” He turned on his heel, striding angrily back toward his waiting vehicle. 

“Wait.” This time the hint of desperation in her voice was unmistakable. He paused mid-step. 

“I-” she let out an aggravated sigh. “I need your help with something first.”

He felt his eyebrows rise. Obviously that was when he should have started asking questions, _demanding_ answers. 

Instead, like a trained puppy, he followed her beyond the tree line. 

She kept her distance from him, her shoulders hunched and her walk slightly stilted. None of the self assuredness he’d come to expect from her was present in her posture. He told himself it was just a consequence of the cold. 

She came to a halt near the base of an expansive pine, squatting down as close as she could get to the perimeter of its spiky needles. 

He swept his light to her side and fell back a step. 

There was a body. 

A _body_ nestled under the protection of the lowest branches. 

“What in the actual fuck Clarke?!” He seethed, taking another step back. His gaze darted around automatically, expecting to find someone barreling out of the shadows at them, gun drawn. 

“Shh!” She hissed, her eyes flashing, despite the fact that the light was pointing elsewhere. “She’s fine, she just-” her voice cracked partway through her hurried whisper. “She passed out. I think it was just the adrenaline wearing off. I don’t know Bellamy, I-”

He shoved his fingers into his hair, painfully tangling into his roots. “It’s okay. It’s-” he exhaled, the air gusting past his lips. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “I- it’s okay. I’ll help.”

He stooped under the branches beside her trying to get a closer look. It was a kid - a young girl from what he could tell. Her head was resting on top of a bundle of fabric - Clarke’s jacket. No wonder she wasn’t dressed appropriately. 

“Let me just pick her up,” he muttered, sidling a little closer until his shoulder was practically brushing Clarke’s. 

The blonde bristled. “No, I've got her,” she whispered almost fiercely. He froze once again, taken aback by her sudden abrasiveness. 

From what little he could see of her face, Clarke seemed to be chewing on her lip. After a few breaths her shoulders slumped once again. “I’ll carry her. I just need help getting her out.”

Bellamy still had no idea what to make of things, but he nodded, shifting away. Clarke seemed to relax a little more as soon as he did. She pulled her jacket out, draping it around the girl, then clasped her hands under the child’s armpits. 

Bellamy moved further off to gather the kid’s feet. Together, the two of them managed to gently lift her free without waking her up. 

He’d barely had a chance to set her legs down, before Clarke was struggling to hoist her back up, throwing the girl’s arms over her shoulders and lifting under her dangling thighs. 

The blonde struggled to get back to standing, her knees nearly buckling. The kid was almost as big as she was. 

Bellamy watched her take a few stumbling steps before he sighed. “Clarke let me take her,” he tried again. 

Clarke didn’t pause, still determinedly moving forward. “No,” she all but growled. 

He jogged the few steps it took to catch up, his hand automatically going to the small of her back to steady her. She flinched away almost violently. 

Once again his eyebrows shot up. 

She just kept trudging through the bushes, never looking at him. “I’ve got it Bellamy. Now can we please just get out of here?”

He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never seen her act like this before. Instead he kept his mouth shut, edging out around her so that he would get to the vehicle first.

He had the back door open and waiting for them by the time they arrived. Clarke practically crawled into the backseat with the girl before he even had the chance to offer his assistance.

Feeling awkward, he made his way around to the driver side and climbed in just in time to hear the click of the child’s seat belt. The back door slammed and moments later, Clarke was making her way into the seat beside his, her actions seeming to take much more effort than they should have.

He took the opportunity to study her in the marginally better lighting that the overhead lamps provided. At the strangely twisted angle she was sitting at, there wasn’t much for him to see beyond the back of her head and a small sliver of her reflection in the side mirror.

She’d lobbed off most of her beautiful blonde curls at some point, leaving her with a short bob instead. It still suited her, it was just… different. And - if he was being honest - a welcome reminder that this wasn’t the same Clarke that he’d known as well as his own reflection.

His hand paused on the keys. “Where exactly are we going?”

She chanced a quick glance at him before turning her head back toward the window. “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead,” she muttered, sounding hollow.

Something behind his navel clenched. That didn’t sound like her at all. “ _You_? Not having a plan? Did I somehow pick up the wrong potential fugitive?” He tried to come across as teasing, but there was no disguising the tightness in his voice.

There was no reaction to his words - no twitch of her lips or furrowing of her brow. “Away,” she pleaded, her expression pinching once again before she pressed the heels of her hands against her eye sockets. “Just get us as far away from here as you can.” With that, she curled into herself, somehow folding her knees into her chest before rolling towards her door, her back like a solid wall between them.

He watched her for a long moment. There was obviously a lot she wasn’t telling him, but maybe he should just let that go for the time being. It wasn’t like he’d been exactly encouraging her to trust him again. Yes, she’d hurt him… but obviously he wasn’t the only one in pain at the moment.

With a sigh, he shifted forward in his seat, easing the zipper of his jacket down and shrugging it off of his shoulders.

Clarke let out an impatient groan. “Can you _please_ just dri-?”

Her words cut off as the warm material landed over her smaller form. The stillness in the vehicle was absolute for a long moment, but then her fingers curled into the fabric near her shoulder, pulling it closer. He could have sworn that some of the tension in her back eased as soon as the jacket settled over her petite frame, but maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see.

He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Whatever you want Princess,” he muttered. The engine turned over with an abrasively loud roar, and he pulled the vehicle back out onto the road.

Turning towards home was his automatic instinct, and since she hadn’t told him any differently he didn’t fight it. Silence fell over them like a heavy blanket. It was unnerving, but he tried to keep his focus on the asphalt stretching out ahead of them.

Not on the fact that his ex was sitting less than two feet away from him.

Not on the random child passed out in his back seat.

No, focusing on keeping his car on the road seemed like a much more agreeable option.

Clarke kept shifting around, almost as if she couldn’t get comfortable. He tried to ignore it, but his eyes eventually ended up drifting over of their own accord.

They immediately caught on the hand still resting over her shoulder. A couple of her knuckles were split open. Even in the dark, he could see the nearly black blood crusting the edges of the wounds.

He stared so long that it took his tires edging onto the rumble strips on the shoulder to snap him out of it. Quickly, he jerked the vehicle back to the center of the lane then chewed at his bottom lip. What in the hell had happened?

He was rapidly slipping past the point of being able to keep his mouth shut. Everything that he’d witnessed in the last hour was nearly unrecognizable in comparison to the girl he’d been in love with. He couldn’t fathom what could have happened to her that had gotten her into a situation like this in the first place.

She moved again, this time letting out a soft whimper when her body protested its new position.

That was it. He couldn’t hold out any longer. “Clarke - what’s going on?” This time when he asked, he kept his tone grave, trying to emphasize that it wasn’t a question that she could simply brush aside.

“Just drop it,” she gasped out, obviously still in pain.

His jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “You have me helping you kidnap a child across state lines. I think I’m entitled to at least some sort of explanation.”

He caught her expression change through her reflection in the window. “What are you talking about?” She gritted out.

He couldn’t help but shake his head bitterly. “She’s not yours Clarke. I may not know a damn thing about you anymore, but I do know that you didn’t have a _kid_ while we were together.” The girl looked to be somewhere around 8 or 9 years old. No matter what fantastical story his brain might try to come up with, that timeline didn’t add up.

Clarke finally made more of an effort to acknowledge him, rolling the upper part of her body gingerly toward her back to shoot him a glare over her shoulder. “The adoption papers were finalized a couple of weeks ago.”

That -

That hadn’t been what he was expecting. Not at all.

His mouth went bone dry as he tried futilely to swallow. Her words took a few long minutes to process. _She had a kid_. A kid that he knew nothing about. And that hurt in a way that he couldn’t really explain.

But the more that he thought about it, the more that the full implications of her words set in. She wasn’t necessarily absolved of anything — not yet at least. Being a teacher, he’d witnessed more fucked up home situations than he ever would have imagined were possible before he’d entered the profession. It had given him a whole new perspective of things that he couldn’t just ignore now.

Clearing his throat, he tried to keep any inflection out of his next question. “Do you have sole custody?”

Her face crumpled slightly before she was able to properly school her features. Eventually she jerked her head from side to side once, confirming his suspicions.

“ _Jesus_. That’s still a fucking abduction Clarke,” he snapped, barely managing to keep his voice quiet.

Her hand dropped to her lap with a soft smack. “You’re right - it is. And I had no right to drag you into it.” She started to pull his jacket off, causing it to pool in her lap. “You can pull over in the next town and drop us off. I swear I’ll never breathe a word of your involvement and you’ll never hear from me again. Your hands will be clean.”

He was already shaking his head before she finished her sentence. “That isn’t what I meant.” He needed to shut up. She was giving him an out - a way to save his career and avoid even potentially going to prison. He’d be a fool not to take it. “God, I would never do that to you,” the words continued to spill out, almost as if his brain was occupied by two warring factions and the stupid, lovestruck one had all of the control. “I don’t care about the consequences. I’ve got your back. I just want to know what the hell I’m dealing with.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes glistening even in the dark. He couldn’t look away. Something could have appeared in the middle of the road right in front of them, putting them all in mortal peril and he would have been none the wiser.

“Bellamy _please_ ,” she pleaded in a soft voice. “If you ever loved me… I’m begging you - please _drop this_.”

Something in his chest clenched. How could she even question how he’d felt? He’d never given up on her - hell he was _still here_. His mouth opened, but before he could respond, he was cut off by a sharp inhale, followed by the dull thud of a foot hitting the cushioned back of a chair.

Clarke’s eyes widened an instant before she was scrambling to undo her seat belt, then practically diving over the console between the front seats.

Bellamy cursed under his breath, bewildered, his arm automatically flying up to brace across the back of Clarke’s thighs, his foot finding the brake and gradually depressing it to slow them down.

“Mads it’s okay - we’re safe,” he could barely hear Clarke’s voice over the young girl’s frantic gasping for air. Shifting his gaze, he tried to get a read on what was going on, but Clarke was obstructing his view.

The blonde jerked, her elbows flying as she seemed to wrestle with the kid for a moment. “Hey, hey, hey - Madi look at me.” The girl let out a heartbreakingly soft whimper. Clarke sighed, reaching over her head and thumping the cabin light on without warning.

Bellamy was forced to squeeze his eyes shut for a few seconds, and even then he was still seeing spots and having trouble making out the road ahead of them due to the glare off of the windshield. “Clarke,” he muttered, trying to get her attention.

She didn’t even spare him a glance.

“We’re going someplace safe Sweetheart, I promise.” she shifted again, her hip brushing against Bellamy’s shoulder. Bellamy chanced another glance back. Clarke was practically in the backseat, her forehead pressed against her adopted daughter’s, her hands cupping the girl’s flushed cheeks. The look on her face - Bellamy didn’t understand how someone could look both devastated but also so serene and loving all at the same time.

That image… Bellamy had to admit that he’d been wrong. The kid was Clarke’s. They may not have been related by blood, but she was the girl’s mother in every sense of the word. There was no denying it.

He was about to turn his view back to the road, when his eyes caught on something. His two passengers had separated slightly, revealing that the girl’s lower lip was split open, her chin smeared with little red flecks as if someone had hastily tried to wipe away the evidence.

Bellamy’s blood boiled, his one handed grip on the steering wheel tightening until the leather groaned in protest.

“Who’s that?” the kid - Madi’s - voice trembled and his heart squeezed even harder. No child should ever have to sound that afraid.

Clarke didn’t answer right away, confusing him. Had she really lost so much faith in him that she was struggling with the idea of introducing him to her daughter?

“Clarke?” the girl prodded once again.

His ex sighed, sparing a quick glance at him over her shoulder that he couldn’t read. “Do you remember the stories that I used to tell you?” she asked softly, turning back to the small brunette.

After a moment, Madi responded, her voice cautious. “But those stories were about _before_. From when you lived in Arcadia and-” the girl trailed off, seeming to be putting things together. " _Bellamy?_ ” She asked disbelievingly.

His foot dropped even harder on the brake before he realized what he was doing, his eyes flying up to the rearview mirror only to find the young girl's piercing gaze fixed on him.

The sudden change in momentum caused Clarke to tumble into the dash. He tried to catch her at the last minute, but the back of her left hip still hit the hard plastic and she let out a strangled cry.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he blurted frantically, using one hand to try to help pry her out of the footwell where she’d fallen.

“Clarke?” Madi sounded terrified.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” the blonde tried to reassure her hurriedly. She started to bat Bellamy’s hand away but almost instantly changed her mind, her fingers clamping down on his forearm instead with enough force to bruise.

He looked down at her, but her face was still mostly hidden by her tousled hair, the little bit of skin he could see looking unnaturally pale. Slowly she started to pull herself up. He did his best to ignore the little pained moans that continuously poured from between her lips.

When she was once again perched precariously on the edge of her seat, he cleared his throat. “If you want I can pull over so that you can get in the back, but I _need_ you to put your seatbelt back on,” he pleaded in a soft tone.

Clarke appeared to weigh her options. Testily leaning toward the window, she barely managed to cover her sharp gasp by turning it into an equally painful sounding cough.

The young girl wasn’t fooled. “It’s okay Clarke - _I’m_ okay. You don’t need to move.”

Bellamy felt his eyebrows scrunch together. What did _that_ mean?

But Clarke obediently sat back, securing the restraint across her chest with a solid click that somehow did wonders towards easing his anxiety.

Someone honked at them, the noise blaring as they zoomed past. Bellamy sighed, easing the car back into motion. He had to squint in order to try to get a clear picture of the road ahead and it was starting to give him a headache. “Is it alright if I turn the light off?” He asked gently.

No one answered him verbally, but after a moment Clarke reached up, shrouding them in darkness once again.

The energy in the vehicle had shifted. Madi seemed to be almost buzzing in the backseat, as if she had a thousand things bottled up inside that she was too afraid to say in front of a total stranger. At least he _thought_ he was a total stranger…

Why would Clarke tell her daughter stories about him? Obviously he’d been mentioned enough that the girl could recall his name from just an incredibly vague reference. Which left him with what was maybe an even more unsettling question - what exactly had she said?

Again, it wasn’t the time or place to ask.

A large green sign caught his attention as it flew by the passenger side. It gave him an idea - a way to give the girls some privacy so they could chat while also helping him stay alert enough for the last hour or so of their drive. 

He glanced into the backseat through the rearview mirror once again and was slightly startled to find that the young girl was still studying him, her blue eyes intense. 

Clearing his throat, he followed it up with a dry swallow then spoke. “It’s Madi, right?”

The girl hesitated, her distrust painfully obvious, but after a moment her chin dipped in a slight nod. 

He deflated a bit. “We’re getting pretty close to New Haven. What do you say to some hot chocolate? I can find a 24 hour Dunkin’ and get you something.” 

She didn’t answer, her gaze darting over to Clarke instead. 

His ex’s hand grazed his wrist, her touch featherlight, though her joints appeared stiff and tensed. “We can’t risk-“

“I know,” he cut off her protest. “I’ll park someplace secluded and go in by myself. You guys look like you could use something hot to drink.“

Clarke’s jaw ticked like she was still trying to come up with a way to refute him. 

He shrugged off her touch. “I insist.” He told her tersely. 

She shook her head with a familiar stubborn roll of her eyes. A moment later she fished his jacket off of the floor, once again pulling it up to her chin and leaning onto her side away from him. 

“Can I have whipped cream?” Madi asked timidly. 

The question surprised him. With the way she’d been acting, he hadn’t expected her to address him. He curled his lips into what he hoped was a warm smile as he answered. “Of course.”

She gifted him a little grin in return. The girl seemed to be loosening up a bit more once the tension had been broken, and he was grateful. 

A couple of minutes later, she couldn’t resist asking him another question. “Where are you taking us anyway?”

At first he didn’t answer - he’d been expecting Clarke to take the lead on that one. When she didn’t so much as twitch, he shook his head slightly. “My place I guess. You guys can stay with me at least for tonight. I’ve got plenty of space.”

Once again Clarke didn’t interject or protest. His eyes flickered over to her, but she didn’t even seem to be listening. From the little bit of her reflection he could make out, she looked like she had zoned out, her vacant eyes staring out the window. His diaphragm clenched tighter with anxiety.

His response must have been satisfying enough for Madi, because she let the topic drop. No one spoke again until he’d exited the highway and picked out the familiar pink and orange sign, pulling into the darkened back corner of a nearly empty lot. 

Clarke still hadn’t moved. He reached over and touched the back of her shoulder lightly. Once again, she jumped, the whole car jolting. 

A fresh bolt of concern pierced through him, but he pushed it down, not wanting to make a scene in front of her daughter. 

Clarke turned her head and looked at him expectantly. 

“You still take 2 creams, no sugar?” Decadent enough for a princess but without the impracticality of ‘empty calories’.

She blinked at him, obviously shocked that he would remember her coffee order after all this time. After a moment, her eyes flickered down, landing in her lap. He followed her gaze, noting just how badly her hands were shaking, and made a mental note to get her a decaf. 

“We have nothing to give you Bellamy,” she muttered low enough that Madi wouldn’t overhear.

He shook his head. “I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

She finally looked up, her sapphire eyes piercing. “Why are you doing this?”

It only took seconds for the eye contact to become painful. He shifted so that he was staring blankly out of the windshield, the words sticking in his throat before they finally came out. “You know why.” 

Without giving her a chance to think too hard about his response, he opened his door. At the last second, he tossed her his keys. That was probably really stupid. She could fleece him easily, leaving him stranded out of state in the middle of the night. Somehow her safety was still too important to him for him prioritize his own wellbeing. 

He really should start seeing a therapist.

Inside the small restaurant, he took his time, making a pit stop in the restroom, then pretending to peruse the menu. The place was pretty dead, the employees paying more attention to their phones than the random man loitering near the windows. He wanted to give Madi and Clarke as much time as he could, hoping they could help to ease each other’s minds… maybe be a little more relaxed for the rest of the trip.

But the longer he stayed away, the more _he_ started to get restless as well. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he gave in, finally heading to the till.

Along with the girls’ drink orders and an extra large coffee for himself, he also paid for a box of munchkins for Madi and a breakfast sandwich for Clarke. He had no idea when they’d eaten last, and part of him was hoping that Clarke’s trembling was just due to low blood sugar.

The wounds on her hand and Madi’s face would suggest otherwise, but he was trying really hard not to think about that.

It took some time for their order to be put together. Apparently it was a rarity for someone to ask for hot food during the early hours of the morning. He found his eyes drifting to the parking lot. His SUV was still there, visible as little more than a black void against the night sky. He let out a subconscious sigh of relief.

Juggling the steaming tray of beverages along with the other items, he made his way back to the car. It only took one glance inside to tell him things had shifted in his absence.

Clarke’s seat was reclined, and she’d adjusted onto her other side, one hand trailing into the backseat where it was locked with her daughter’s. Likewise, Madi had also moved, shifting into the middle seat so that Clarke no longer had to strain to keep the girl in her field of vision.

When he placed the package of donut holes on the bench seat beside her, Madi’s face lit up. Her free hand darted toward them automatically before she pulled up short, looking to Clarke sheepishly for her approval.

“Just what you need… getting hopped up on sugar at 3am,” Clarke commented sarcastically, but she had a little smirk pulling up one corner of her lips. Madi seemed to take that as permission enough, cracking the container open, and stuffing an entire piece into her mouth with a happy groan.

Throughout the exchange Bellamy’s gaze had been drawn to Clarke. The exhaustion was heavy set in her face, and yet her eyes sparkled fondly as she watched her charge. It was a look that he’d never seen on her before. It pulled at something deep inside of him that he’d thought he’d long since buried. Echo had never wanted anything to do with kids. He’d thought that that part of him had died when Clarke left. But all it had taken was one look and all of those feelings came rushing back.

He needed to stop.

Even indulging in those kinds of thoughts for a moment wasn’t fair to Clarke and it certainly wasn’t fair to himself. He was just helping out a friend - one who obviously was in a really rough spot. 

He placed the breakfast sandwich in her lap without comment, then settled into his chair. After a long sip of vaguely burnt tasting coffee, he turned the key that Clarke had conveniently stored in the ignition and pulled back out onto the road.

Madi seemed to be more comfortable around him already. When she was finished with her snack, she leaned forward, resting her head on the edge of the passenger chair.

“Is Arcadia really as quiet as Clarke says it is?” She inquired, her voice sounding much lighter than it had before.

Bellamy glanced over at her. She was laser focused, her attention rapt on whatever he was going to say.

The teacher part of him came out. He’d always loved interacting with kids. It was why he’d chosen his profession in the first place. “It’s so tiny I bet you half of Rhode Island doesn’t even know it exists.” He informed her with a grin. “But it’s beautiful. In the summer, everything is so green, and there are tons of hiking trails and hidden gems to check out.”

The girl’s face had softened as she’d started to relax. “I always thought I would like it there from the way Clarke described it in her stories,” the whimsy was clear in her voice and once again he was left wondering just what those stories had entailed. “I always loved it when she would talk about Breakheart Pond. I still think that’s the most melodramatic and ridiculous name I’ve ever heard.”

He chuckled. “Maybe after you get some rest, Clarke and I can take you to go see it. That way you can see what all the fuss is about for yourself.”

Madi pivoted her head, mouth opening to ask if that was okay, but she stopped when she saw the deep frown set into Clarke’s face.

“I don’t think we’ll be sticking around long enough to see much of anything Mads,” the blonde informed the young woman morosely.

As her words processed in his head, something occurred to Bellamy. “Why not?” He asked quietly.

She shot him a disbelieving look. “Excuse me?”

“Why not stay for a bit?” She’d started to shake her head but he pushed on. “You’re obviously trying to get away from something. Wouldn’t a town that’s so small you can’t even find it on most maps be the ideal option?”

Her eyebrows narrowed into a glare. “You don’t-“

He let out an exasperated breath before she could finish her sentence. “You’re right, I _don’t_ understand what’s going on, _because you won’t tell me anything_. I don’t get it Clarke. _You_ called _me_. Obviously I want to help. Why can’t you-”

Her hand landed on his thigh sending a bolt of electricity through him. The air caught in his throat to the point that he couldn’t say anything more - his lungs wouldn’t cooperate.

“Now isn’t the time Bellamy,” she sounded almost cold. 

To both of their surprise, it was Madi who spoke up next. “Why not Clarke?”

Neither adult seemed to know what to say. They both just sat there for a moment with their mouths hanging slightly open.

Madi sat up, giving each of them a look. “Bellamy’s right - you called him for a reason. Why are you pushing him away again without even giving things a chance?”

Clarke visibly bristled. “Madi,” she warned in a low voice.

But the young girl couldn’t be swayed. “You _finally_ have someone you can talk to. He came just like you said he would. He can pr-”

“ _Madi_.” This time, the girl’s name came out as a snap - one that left Clarke grimacing the moment the word left her lips. Pressing the heel of her hand to her temple, she took a deep breath. “We’re almost ho-” she cut herself off abruptly before trying again. “We’re getting pretty close to Arcadia. You need to let Bellamy focus so he doesn’t miss the exit.”

Bellamy couldn’t help but scoff at that. He’d lived there practically his whole life. He’d be willing to bet that he would still turn off at the right point even if he’d been blindfolded.

But he still let it go. Clarke was sounding irritable and exhausted, and he didn’t exactly want to hash out the last half a decade when he wasn’t fairing much better. It could wait until they’d all gotten some rest - and he was awake enough to form a few more rational arguments.

All three of them were quiet for the rest of the drive. Madi had closed her eyes shortly after the conversation had ended. He didn’t think she was actually asleep - her forehead was far too creased for her not to be thinking intently about something.

Clarke gasped softly, pulling his focus back. A brief flare of concern blazed through him before he realized what she was looking at.

His house had just become visible through the trees ahead.

Clarke looked lost. He wasn’t sure if she was suddenly regretting calling him - if the memories that had come flooding back were just too painful. He knew the ones drowning his own mind had set an electric current under his skin, tearing at the still fragile scar tissue coating his heart.

He swallowed thickly, pulling into the driveway.

Madi’s eyes snapped open the second the vehicle came to a stop. His body had tensed up, his jaw locking and his vision focused straight ahead, but he could still feel the girl’s gaze drilling into the back of his head. 

Neither he nor Clarke moved. The air around them felt thick and stagnant - heavy with too much time lost and too many emotions repressed. His chest had tightened up again, his lungs refusing to expand. His eyes had started to sting and yet he couldn’t even bring himself to blink.

Madi shifted in the backseat, her clothes making a soft rustling sound. 

That seemed to break the spell. Clarke pulled the hand that had still been holding her daughter’s away and used it to swipe at one of her eyes. “I…” her voice cracked the silence but then stopped, almost as if it had been swallowed by the stillness. “I uh-” she tried again but didn’t get much further.

Bellamy’s chin dipped, understanding the feeling.

“Do you mind taking Madi inside and getting her settled?” She’d finally pulled some strength from somewhere. “I… I need a minute.”

He nodded stiffly, grabbing the keys and spinning the ring around his index finger restlessly as he got out.

The cool early morning air on his skin was a welcome relief. He took a deep breath after he’d closed his door, running his fingers through his hair.

“Is that a treehouse?” He hadn’t realized that Madi was behind him. He jumped slightly, muttering a curse before turning around and glancing up at the old wood fort that she was indicating. To be honest, he’d nearly forgotten about its existence. No one had used it in years.

“Yeah,” he answered in an offhand manner, still trying to get his bearings.

After blinking a few times he felt a little more like himself. “Yeah it is,” this time his response was more steady. “Clarke’s dad helped me build it for my sister when we were kids.” Back when life had been simple, the Griffins were just the nice family living down the street, and he never could have imagined ending up here.

Madi grinned almost shyly, starting up the path to the front door. “Your sister is Octavia right?” When he nodded, her smile broadened. “She was always one of my favorites from when Clarke would tell me about her past. She sounded like such a badass.” The brunette flushed under the porch light. “Don’t tell Clarke I used that word.”

His lips twitched up on one side. So he wasn’t the only one Clarke talked about. He wasn’t sure whether that made him feel better or worse.

Unlocking the front door, he ushered her inside, his eyes automatically sweeping around. He hadn’t had any company in a while, but luckily the place wasn’t too much of a mess. 

“O is pretty great,” he admitted distractedly. Definitely not a big fan of Clarke anymore, but Madi didn’t need to know that.

He wasn’t sure if she was really listening, her chin lifting as she took in her surroundings. “I like it here,” she mused as she toed off her shoes. “It’s different - _warm_.”

His eyes narrowed as he tried to change his perspective to better understand what exactly the girl was seeing. His place certainly wasn’t anything spectacular. It was decently well maintained, but aside from some worn in furniture and a couple of photos on the side tables there wasn’t much to see. If that was her idea of ‘warm’ he shuddered to think about what she was used to.

Taking Clarke’s jacket from her and hanging it near the door, he led Madi past the living space into an adjacent hallway. “I’ll give you a real tour once you’ve gotten some sleep, but for now, you can use this bathroom,” he flipped the light on to give her a quick glimpse, before taking her to the room next door. “And you can have O’s old room for however long you guys end up staying.”

Stepping inside, he pulled open a couple of drawers in the dresser. His sister had left some of her things behind when she’d moved out west, and he managed to find a faded old t-shirt and a pair of satiny sleep shorts. “You'll probably be swimming in this, but it’ll do for tonight.”

He turned back to her, offering the clothes. When he did, his eyes automatically locked in on the dark burgundy stain on one side of Madi’s collar, and his stomach hardened right back up, feeling like a heavy stone pressing against his organs.

Madi raised an eyebrow, obviously picking up on his change in demeanor.

He swallowed thickly, shifting his weight from foot to foot a couple of times. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to deal with a situation like this. 6 years as an educator in rural America had placed him as a child’s advocate in awful situations on more than a few occasions. Still - it was the part of his job that he unequivocally hated the most. And though he had enjoyed what few interactions he’d had with the girl so far, he hadn’t exactly built a rapport with her. He’d need to tread carefully.

“Madi…” he started hesitantly. “I know that you really don’t know me, but I want you to know that I’m here for you, okay? I don’t know what happened, but whatever it is… you can tell me anything. And if you need my help-”

Madi’s eyes widened. She brought up a hand, gingerly touching her lip before shaking her head. “I don’t even really feel it,” she told him dismissively. “I’m fine.” 

He opened his mouth to protest, but she just took the pajamas from him and went to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Clarke _did_ call you for a reason,” Madi informed him, apparently changing the subject.

His brain stuttered. He still wanted to talk to her about how she’d gotten hurt, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by what she wanted to tell him.

“She _trusts_ you Bellamy and I’m not sure if you realize what a big deal that is.”

His mind still seemed to be malfunctioning. He took a small step back, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She went on, her previously innocent looking face turned deadly serious. “I may not know you, but I _know_ you. That probably doesn’t make any sense… but I know how much you care about her. Just like I may not know what happened between the two of you, but I _do_ know that it’s one of Clarke’s biggest regrets.”

He subtly dug his thumbnail into the inside of his bicep, trying to ascertain whether he was awake or if this was some kind of weird fever dream. The dull ache would seem to indicate the former… but he was still having trouble believing that he was hearing these things from a kid whose birthdays probably hadn’t even hit double digits yet.

“Clarke has tried to shield me from everything. She thinks I’m still oblivious to most of what happened, but I’m not. Which is why I know that she needs you. She’ll tell you that she’s fine, but she’s not. Don’t let her pull the same things she did before Bellamy. Don’t let her go.”

God, he wished he could just cut through all of her cryptic messaging to understand what she was trying to imply. Whatever it was - whatever was _going on_ \- he didn’t like the sound of it… not one bit. 

The front door creaked open before being quietly shut. Instinctively he glanced down the hallway even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything from the angle of the room. When he turned back, Madi had shifted, twisting her hair up and starting to pull back the covers.

He straightened. “Madi, I-”

She’d pursed her lips, still tugging the comforter out from being tucked in. “There’s nothing else to talk about tonight. Just remember what I said.”

He sighed. There wasn’t much point in fighting her on that. She’d obviously waited to talk to him at a time when Clarke wouldn’t overhear, and that opportunity had passed. But he was now fairly certain that Madi wanted to stay as long as they could, and he would help her with that. There would be time to talk another day.

Wiping his hands on the front of his jeans, he looked around the room one last time, trying to think of anything else that he could get her to make her more comfortable. Coming up empty, he blew out a breath. “If there’s anything you need-”

“Come find you. Got it,” her little grin was back. He’d only seen it a couple of times and yet it already had the power to put him at ease.

“I’ll send Clarke your way,” he assured her, backing out of the room. “See you in the morning?”

“You mean in a few hours?” She teased him sassily, then gave him a slight nod. “‘Night, Bellamy.”

He could already hear Clarke’s shuffling gait headed down the hall. He still wasn’t sure what to say after everything that had transpired in the car and all of Madi’s revelations. So, like the coward he was, he dodged around her instead of stopping to chat. “She’s in O’s,” he muttered as he passed, his head ducked down and angled away from her.

The next thing he knew, he was in the kitchen, filling the sink with soapy water so that he could work his way through the modest stack of dishes he’d left the previous day. It was busy work - keeping his hands occupied while he tried to sort through Madi’s words.

She’d said Clarke trusted him. And from a child’s perspective that made perfect sense. He’d been the one she’d called when she’d been desperate for help.

But did she really?

She still hadn’t told him anything. What little information he’d gotten from her, he’d had to posit himself and she hadn’t even made that easy.

So did she really trust in _him_ , or just that he was still a gullible fool that she could exploit to get what she wanted?

He nearly cringed. He didn’t want to believe that. Clarke had never been manipulative in their relationship before. It felt like a notion that the bitter part of his heart was pushing forward, warning him away from future heartbreak.

And even if it _was_ true - could he really turn his back? 

Over the last 8 hours or so, it had become more than obvious that all of the feelings he’d tried so hard to get over were still there. And now there was a kid involved too - a kid that he was already growing fond of, not that it mattered. 

The answer was a resounding no.

Resting his palms on the edge of the sink, he slumped into his shoulders and closed his eyes. Things were so goddamn complicated.

The house was quiet enough that he heard it when Madi’s door clicked shut. With a sigh, he unplugged the sink and dried his hands, then popped open the freezer to grab a bag of frozen peas. He was going to have to face Clarke eventually, he might as well get it over with.

He found her still in the hallway, slouching into the closed door, her head tilted back against the painted wood. Her trembling had gotten worse, even visible from 10 feet away. He needed to get her into bed.

He cleared his throat, trying to warn her of his presence. She still jumped, her head bumping against the door with a quiet thump. The whites of her eyes were clearly visible for a moment before she realized who was standing in front of her. Deflating, she brushed a hand over her forehead and shook her head.

“My old room is a home office now, but you can have the master. I’ll take the couch.” His tone was all business and he hated it.

Clarke’s chin dipped in acknowledgement. She pushed herself upright, where she swayed briefly, before collapsing back, barely catching herself on the doorframe before her knees completely gave out.

His heart started to race, all of the concern he’d been pushing down roaring to the surface and overpowering everything else. In an instant he was at her side. “Are you alright?” He asked her, the worry clear in his voice.

Her hand found his chest, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. “Yes,” she answered curtly, her breath coming out in short pants. Within seconds she’d changed her answer, her eyes squeezing tightly closed. “No.”

His jaw clenched. He started to stoop down, but she stopped him, keeping him upright with her grip on his clothes. “I want to walk, I’m- I just need-”

A frustrated groan escaped his lips, but he abided her request, looping an arm securely around her shoulders instead. She leaned heavily into him, making their progress slow and awkward, but eventually they got to their destination, Bellamy depositing Clarke on the edge of the bed.

Once she was settled, he handed her the frozen vegetables he was still holding. She just looked back at him skeptically.

Raising an eyebrow, he indicated the hand that was still resting in her lap. “Punching someone hurts like a bitch the next day. I would know.”

Her skin flushed, chin tucking even lower as she shifted the bag to lay across the back of her knuckles. There was still no explanation forthcoming.

Grinding his teeth, he went to his closet, riffling all the way to the back until he found an old long-sleeved tee that she used to borrow. Clarke had always been curvier than Octavia. It would just be easier to give her something of his instead. Tossing it onto the bed beside her, he debated whether he should give her a pair of his boxers too or if that was inappropriate. Since she hadn’t commented, he decided to just give them to her anyways and let her decide whether she wanted them or not.

Her silence was starting to unnerve him. He added the pair to the pile then turned around, aiming for the door. “I guess I’ll just-”

He’d almost crossed the threshold when she finally spoke. “Bellamy.”

He paused, his hand hovering near the doorknob.

“I-” She hesitated, her voice sounding weaker than it had before. “I need help.”

His brow furrowed. It wasn’t like Clarke to ask for help. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d heard those words leave her mouth before that night. Slowly, he turned back to her. “What do you mean?” He asked cautiously.

She’d shrunken in on herself while he wasn’t looking, hunching over the leg she had curled up on the bedspread in front of her, her back to him.

“I can’t-” she broke off once again, fingering the hem of her shirt on one side.

He felt himself bristle. She couldn’t seriously be asking him to undress her in that moment.

But she had. And like he’d just contemplated, Clarke really didn’t ask for anything - not normally. That heavy feeling was back in his gut, screaming at him that there was something wrong, but he couldn’t find the proper words to ask.

Hesitantly he perched himself on the edge of the bed behind her and barely lifted the soft material between his fingers, waiting for her to lay into him for misunderstanding what she was asking.

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t say anything.

When the fabric didn’t rise any higher, she turned her head, chin bumping her shoulder, as if she were trying to figure out what the hold up was.

Biting into the inside of his cheek, he edged the shirt higher, only to completely freeze up.

“ _Jesus,_ ” he hissed out.

Her skin was painted a horrible purple-black from just beneath her bra, until it disappeared into the waistband of her jeans. His fingertips traced the unmarred area just outside of the bruise of their own volition. His mind was replaying her flying back into the dash, the image haunting him. “This isn’t from-?” He started to ask hurriedly.

She let out a ragged breath. “It’s not.” She answered flatly.

When she realized that he seemed to be stuck, still staring at her injury, she tried to urge him on. “Could you…” She fidgeted a bit, leaning forward the tiniest amount. “It’s cold and um…”

Shaking himself free from the horrible scenarios now running through his mind, he eased the shirt over her head, then gently slid the fabric down her arms. After pulling the new shirt into place, he deftly undid the clasp on her bra, removing it as well, before maneuvering her arms into the sleeves.

As soon as the task was complete, he stood up abruptly, pacing beside the bed and roughly running his hands through his hair. “ _What in the hell happened_?”

Clarke shook her head, her blonde bob still curtaining her face.

He dropped his arms, hands slapping against his thighs. “You need medical attention,” he told her seriously.

“Unless I’m bleeding out into a kidney, it can wait,” she informed him in a dry voice.

He shot her a disbelieving look. How could she be so cavalier about this? Hell, how could she have sat in a car for 3 hours? How had she _carried Madi_?

“ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed out harshly. His brain was darting around constantly, making it impossible for him to concentrate. Eventually it circled back to what she’d said.

“How do we know if you’re bleeding out?” He asked, the slightest tinge of fear creeping into his voice.

Clarke snorted derisively. “Trust me - we’d have figured it out by now. Funny what a year of med school teaches you.”

He resumed his pacing. It was just like her to brush something like this off. In another life he would have made her go in anyway, but he didn’t have that right anymore. If she was going to be stubborn there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“Wait…” he stopped again, whirling to face her. “ _A year_ of med school? What-?”

Both of her hands scrubbed over her face, fisting into her hair. “Can we talk about this some other time?”

He aimed to shoot her an exasperated look, but seeing her face unobstructed and in full light for the first time took the wind right out of his sails. 

There was a vibrant flare of violet blooming over one of her cheeks. A small nick cut through her eyebrow. Her upper lip was puffy on one side.

“Clarke-” he sat down heavily on the bed beside her.

He may have been exhausted, but he was finally starting to put the pieces together - and he hated the picture it painted with every fibre of his being.

He reached out to her, fingers hovering inches away from her face.

“Don’t.” The word came out monotone. She ducked her head once again, hiding from his view.

Dropping his hand, he just sat there dumbly for what felt like an eternity. The wheels in his mind were still turning at a breakneck pace.

“Madi’s lip…” He hadn’t actually meant to say the whispered words out loud.

If possible, Clarke shrunk even further. “He slapped her. His ring cut her. I-” She finally allowed some emotion to come through in her voice and it ripped at his heart. “That was the only time, I swear. I would never let-” she broke off into a choked gasp, unable to form the words.

That was okay - he could fill in the blanks just fine. She’d never let someone hurt a child. Apparently _she_ was fair game though. The split in her brow was old. This wasn’t a first time offense. He wanted to punch something.

“I want to tell you everything Bellamy - I do. I’m just not there yet.”

At least that much, he could understand. And truth be told, he didn’t need the details right away. What he _did_ need was some kind of plan, because seeing her like this - in pain and fleeing some kind of monster of a human being - and doing nothing about it was tearing him apart from the inside.

“I’m calling Miller in the morning,” he informed her quietly, his tone firm.

At first she looked confused, and he couldn’t blame her. Nate had still been studying criminology the last time they’d met, and she hadn’t known the man as anything other than his idiotic friend. She had no way of knowing that Miller had worked his ass off to rise through the ranks and was now sheriff of the county.

But Clarke had always been whip smart. It didn’t take long for to at least get the jist of what he meant.

She gripped at his wrist, nails digging furrows into his skin. “You can’t,” she hissed. Throwing his arm away as if it disgusted her, she tried futilely to put more distance between them, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “I _trusted_ you.” Her breath hitched in a tiny hiccup. “I know what I did was illegal, but if I get sent to prison, Madi goes back to _him_. God, how could you-”

He leaned forward, trapping her face between his hands. “Clarke let me explain.” She was reeling. Nothing he was saying was getting through. He applied more pressure - just enough so that she would stop thrashing in his grip. “Clarke _stop_.”

Finally her wild eyes focused on him.

“I’m not turning you in, okay? I promise.”

She didn’t look like she believed him - not one bit.

“I meant I was going to help you file for a restraining order. There’s…” his voice died out. He swallowed then tried again. “There’s plenty of evidence. I’m no legal expert, but I’m sure that has to count for something.”

She pulled away from his hands. “If I file for a restraining order he’ll find me.”

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, he shook his head. “So what’s your angle then? You’re just going to stay on the run for the next 10 years? You’re never going to let Madi go to school? What kind of life is that? And more importantly, what happens when you get caught?” He reached forward, plucking her hand from her lap and giving it a firm squeeze. “At least right now, you have the ability to shift the narrative in your favor. If you come forward before he does, that can’t look good on him. And something tells me that the type of bastard that would do something like this isn’t going to call for an amber alert while the bruises are still fresh.”

She blinked at him for a few minutes, her eyes glassy. Then, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand, she closed her eyes. “I _can’t_. I-I can’t think straight right now. Everything is just too much. And everything _hurts_ and I-”

Watching her break down was more than he could bear.

Leaning his chin onto her shoulder, he pulled her into a one-armed hug, massaging into her shoulders to try to release at least a bit of the tension. “It’s okay.” He murmured into her ear soothingly. “I shouldn’t have pushed. You don’t have to decide anything right now. We can talk in the morning.”

She sniffled against his neck and he just held her tighter. “What can I do?”

Her whole body shuddered as she inhaled. “I don’t know.”

So neither one of them moved. This close, her familiar scent was overpowering, making his heart stutter and his skin tingle. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend that they were back in his dorm.

But that was ridiculous and irresponsible. He couldn’t just ignore the reality in front of him - not anymore.

She was starting to get heavier against him, her muscles giving out in sheer exhaustion. Without a second thought, he helped to lower her onto her side, carefully adjusting her position until her head was resting on his pillow.

When he stood up, something flashed through her eyes. Panic? Fear? Distrust? He didn’t know. “I’ll be right back,” he assured her quietly, taking the soggy mess of an icepack she’d been using so that he could throw it out. He slipped into the ensuite before she could say anything.

He was back within minutes, painkillers in one hand, and a glass of water in the other. She took them both gratefully. 

After she’d finished, he hooked a finger through a belt loop near her hip. “Do you want these off?”

She groaned, but something had shifted, as if she were actively trying to lighten the mood. When she spoke, her words somehow held a playful lilt. “Hours ago.”

Trying not to roll his eyes, he helped her peel the jeans down her legs, while trying to keep his gaze respectfully averted. Once she was free of the stiff material, he maneuvered the sheets out from under her and tucked her in.

Sitting on the edge of the bed by her thigh, he studied her once again. An almost disconcerting calm had settled over her. It was probably a mixture of the fatigue and finally finding herself in a relatively safe environment.

He combed a stray piece of her hair behind her ear with the tips of his fingers, and more of the lines that were set in around her eyes smoothed out.

“I’m not going to push you again,” he started softly. “But there’s one more thing that I want you to think about before I leave you for the night.”

She just looked up at him quizzically, fingers twiddling with the edge of the blanket.

“There are still a lot of people here that care about you. We already talked about Miller. Harper’s a nurse. Miller’s boyfriend is some kind of fancy doctor. I’m pretty sure that the girl that Jasper is seeing is some kind of social worker… Anyways - what I’m trying to say is that this is probably one of the safest places you could be. You have people in your corner. Please don’t just slip away again where no one knows where to find you, where no one knows how to _help._ ”

Her expression darkened slightly. “5 years is a long time Bellamy.”

He shook his head. “This is _Arcadia_. Everyone here is family. It doesn’t matter if a family member pisses you off then disappears for 5 years without a word. When they come home you help them.”

She stilled, her eyes glowing faintly. “I promise not to disappear. Not yet at least.”

He let out a sigh of relief.

Pulling the blankets up over her shoulder, he placed a gentle kiss on her hairline. Maybe that was crossing a line, but he was so far beyond caring. Her eyelids were already flagging, but the corner of her lips still twitched up.

Her fingers caught his briefly, before falling away as he stood up. Walking away from her when he’d only just gotten her back in his life felt wrong on a precariously high level. He reminded himself that he’d just be down the hall and that she’d still be there when he woke up, but it still set his gut twisting in somersaults.

When he was nearly out the door, having just flicked off the light, her quiet voice stopped him. “ _Bell_.”

His shoulder blades tensed together as he inhaled sharply. He hadn’t heard that nickname in the sweet melodic tone of her voice in far too long. He waited for her to go on, unable to move.

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch.”

The words held a weird mix of certainty and hesitation. He couldn’t describe it. He tried to look over his shoulder to get a better read on her state of mind, but in the darkness her expression remained a mystery.

“When…” the sheets rustled as she pulled herself up on one elbow. “When things were bad I- _Shit_ , this sounds stupid,” that last part was said under her breath, probably not intended for him to hear. “I’d pretend you were there with me,” she continued in a rush. “I’d convince myself that I still had you. I realize how pathetic that sounds. And I know I have no right to ask. But today has just been so overwhelming. Could you-”

He didn’t make her finish that thought. Instead he made his way to the opposite side of the bed. Before he could talk himself out of it, he discarded his jeans and slipped under the covers, lying stiffly on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Her cold fingers found his wrist. Then moments later they crept up his arm until her palm had found the center of his chest. He became acutely aware of the steady thrum of his heart as it beat against her touch.

“You’re really here,” the longing in her whisper-soft voice brought tears to his eyes.

He rolled his head on the pillow to look at her.

“So are you.” He couldn’t help himself. Reaching out, he pulled her closer. She came willingly, shifting until her head was resting on his shoulder. She nuzzled her nose deeper at the same time as his fingers found their way into the tangle of curls at the nape of her neck. It was automatic - like riding a bike. Like coming home.

With how exhausted she’d been, he expected her to fall asleep right away, but that couldn’t be further from the case. She continued to squirm in his arms until finally she seemed to give up with a sigh, her warm breath tickling his ear.

“Talk to me,” she pleaded. “I need something else to think about.”

That wasn’t the easiest jumping off point, especially when he was nearly as drained as she was. He racked his brain for a casual topic of conversation, but continually came up empty.

So Clarke took matters into her own hands.

“Are Harper and Monty still living on the old Cartwig property? I know you mentioned Harp earlier.”

He felt his cheeks split with a grin. “Monty and Harper and their son Jordan,” he waggled his eyebrows with a short laugh.

Her jaw dropped. “No way. Harper and Monty have a _kid_?” She asked incredulously.

“ _You_ have a kid,” he reminded her sardonically. She scoffed but didn’t object, so he went on. “He’s 2 right now… Gonna be 3 around New Years. He’s adorable but way too smart for his own good.”

Even in the dim light he could see her eyes glowing. “And Jasper. You said he had a girlfriend?” The disbelief was clear in her voice.

He shrugged his unoccupied shoulder. “I don’t know if it’s that serious yet, but yeah. She’s good for him. He’s settled down a lot.”

He could almost feel her grinding her teeth in thought. “I’ve missed so much.”

He couldn’t really contest that. He just hoped she wouldn’t ask what _he’d_ been up to during her absence. He _really_ didn’t feel like going into his failed engagement, and all of the reasons that that relationship had gone down the drain.

He needn't have worried. She'd picked a different difficult topic instead. “What about Octavia?”

He paused for so long that she probably thought that he wasn’t going to answer. “Still in California,” he finally managed curtly. “I try to make the trip out to see her every couple of years, but things have been strained for a while.”

Clarke seemed to think that over for a few minutes. “You don’t have to tell me, but-”

Letting out a half muffled groan, he rested his free arm behind his head. “We’ve been arguing… about a lot of things. I don’t understand some of her choices, and she certainly doesn’t understand mine. I don’t really know what else there is to say.”

He could practically feel her eyes on him. Clarke had always been almost a middle man between the two siblings. Her absence hadn’t caused the rift between them, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Especially when Octavia had been more than ready to burn that bridge when Clarke had disappeared from their lives while he had been hanging onto it with everything that he had.

“I’m sorry,” she told him solemnly.

He shook his head. “It’s not your-”

“No,” she used a delicate touch from her index finger to still his lips. “I’m sorry for so many things Bellamy. For leaving you, for dragging you into _this-_ ”

He panicked slightly. This topic of conversation had the potential to spiral down for both of them incredibly quickly. Hurriedly he scrambled to come up with something to lighten the mood. “At least you didn’t call me out to the middle of nowhere to help you bury a body.”

Obviously bewildered by the sudden change in subject, she snorted a dry chuckle into his chest. “What?”

His lips were pulling up into a grin as well. “The thought definitely crossed my mind when you led me into a dark forest to ‘help you’ with a distinctly human shaped bundle of clothes under a tree.”

She raised a mocking eyebrow at him. “Seriously?” The question was obviously rhetorical. She laid her head back down on his chest and started tracing little patterns over the fabric of his t-shirt. The rhythmic motion was soothing to the point of being almost hypnotic. His eyelids started to droop down, his exhaustion finally winning out.

Her finger stilled. Slowly he blinked his eyes back open, wondering why she’d stopped.

“Would you have?” Her voice had gone quiet, barely above a whisper.

He felt his forehead crease as he tried to remember what they’d been talking about. “Would I have what?”

Her warm exhale danced across the exposed skin at the base of his neck. “Helped me bury a body.”

He thought it over for a moment. Instinctually he wanted to say no, but he had to admit that that was just a lie he was telling himself to feel like he still had some shred of morality when it came to her. Instead he told her the truth. “I didn’t exactly start fumbling for my phone to call the police now did I?”

She shook her head the smallest amount, unable to move very far with her head craned to the side against his body. “I’ve never deserved you Bellamy Blake.”

He freed his hand from her hair, running the backs of his fingers up the outside of her arm instead. “Please don’t say that.” His hand stilled at her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Don’t say it because it’s not true.”

Her eyes were locked on his. Even in the dark they were mesmerizing. He could feel himself sinking deeper. If he didn’t do something he would get lost again - drowning with no hope of ever finding his way out.

“We should get some sleep,” he prodded, hoping she would take the hint. 

Clarke blinked, her gaze lowering. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

Silence enveloped them but paradoxically, his body rebelled, refusing to let his mind slow down even though it had been begging him for relief just moments earlier. 

The words they’d ended off on didn’t feel right. He couldn’t rest until he’d given her at least an inkling of what her reappearance meant to him. How having her here in his arms was everything to him, no matter how messy it made things.

“I’m glad you’re home,” was the sentiment he eventually settled on. He leaned forward to place one last lingering kiss on the crown of her head.

At the last second she shifted, shocking him as he met her lips instead. His dazed stupor didn’t last long before he melted into her, every piece of them molding perfectly into each other the way they always had.

When they were both starved for breath, Clarke finally pulled away.

“I am too.”

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence... probably? I wrote most of this story keeping Clarke's backstory a mystery even to myself. But that would be the most likely explanation that fits into everything that Clarke says about the last 6 years. Also, mentioned violence toward a child.
> 
> This... is what I came up with when I tried to combat writers block by randomly thinking of the prompt that after the 6 year time jump Bellamy thinks that Clarke contacted him just for help burying a body - and he's down with it. Then I combined it with spooky season and my penchant for angst, and this is what came out. I don't know what's wrong with my brain sometimes.
> 
> Hopefully you enjoyed it? Let me know your thoughts with comments and kudos. Also, Happy Halloween! 👻


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